


Best Dad in the World(s)

by YurikoNeko (AlaxxisSade)



Series: KKM: Father's Day Special [4]
Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Father's Day, Fluff, Language of Flowers, Light Angst, M/M, Series Finale, ah well, the series finale tag seems to mean something else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 14:50:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4183950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlaxxisSade/pseuds/YurikoNeko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The best laid plans meet Shibuya Yuuri. One of them cracks, and it's not the baseball boy.</p><p>...Honestly, Wolfram's not even surprised anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Dad in the World(s)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this took longer than expected...

When the sun first rose over the Shinou Shrine, there was already an entire castle’s worth of soldiers, servants, and general busybodies waiting with the princess to wish the king a happy Father’s Day.

                “Aren’t there too many people?” Gwendal frowned, but nobody noticed because he’s Gwendal.

                Breakfast came and went, and some of the cooks had to return to the kitchens.

                “Late morning sunlight is good for the skin!” Günter was trying to convince himself.

                The weather was great at noon. Not a single cloud in the sky, and the golden rays had uninterrupted access to everyone’s heads.

                Dakaskos was chased away by the crowd that remained.

                By afternoon, people were starting to remember that the sixth month meant the start of a healthy, hot summer.

                After the first maid fainted of heatstroke, Gisela dragged away some high-risk individuals, who made one third of the waiting party.

                By evening, everyone agreed that something must have gone wrong, but no one was worried yet. Something about the golden forty-eight hours.

                “Greta…”

               The sun is just about hidden by the horizon now, and Wolfram can’t help but put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Maybe you should have dinner…”

                But the little princess shakes her adamantly. “No. Not without Yuuri.”

                Gwendal looks at her, worry in the creases on his brow. “But you haven’t had a proper meal all—Oomph!”

                Anissina takes her fist away from his stomach just in time to catch him before he falls. Tossing him onto her shoulder, she flashes Greta a smile and a thumbs-up, while Wolfram gets a Look. “Lord von Bielefeld, I suggest that _you_ don’t suggest anything you don’t plan on doing yourself.”

                Wolfram avoids her gaze, until she turns around, ponytail a-swinging, and walks off into the night with her cargo. Then he tries again.

                “Greta…”

                “I’m not having dinner without both my dads, Wolf.”

                Sometimes, Wolfram wonders where Greta gets that stone-hard stubbornness from.

                It’s almost eight, but there hasn’t been a ripple in the pool all day. If that hennachoko misses their third Father’s Day, Wolfram swears to himself silently, he’ll slow-roast his—

                “…Is the coast clear?”

                --his favorite baseball bat. So, yeah, he’d better be glad his ‘Batto-kun’ got away this time.

                “Yuuri!” Greta throws herself into the young king’s arms immediately.

                “Sorry I’m late…” Well, at least Yuuri _sounds_ fine. Wolfram still refuses to turn around and look, though. He should learn that he can’t just go around nearly missing family dates and making everyone worry, and still expect to be welcomed with open arms…

                “Cut him some slack, will you?” Murata’s glasses gleamed in the moonlight, the only part of him that stood out in the night. Otherwise the rest of him just seemed to blend into the darkness, and Wolfram would rather die than admit he was slightly—just slightly, mind you—taken by surprise when he spoke. “Or if you have to be mad at someone, I’m the one you should be after. After all, he only stayed back so I could spend more time with my parents.”

                Murata’s parents… Wolfram’s anger melts, somewhat. “Don’t be so full of yourself. Yuuri has to celebrate with his parents, too, and I’ll have you know Father is very… fond of Yuuri. Attached, even.”

                Maybe even obsessed. Wolfram still has a hard time associating Earth fathers to mazoku fathers, but recently he finally realized why Shibuya Shouma felt so familiar to him from the moment they first met—

                Papa Shibuya may be nothing like Wolfram’s dad, but he sure is a lot like his mom. Again, Wolfram won’t say that out loud, lest he offends someone or –more likely—everyone.

                “Yuuri, Yuuri! Do you like the decorations we made for you?”

                “They’re very… nice? I mean, they’re great! Wow, it’s so elaborate and fancy and very… very black… it doesn’t look like someone died at all, not at all!”

                Wolfram sighs, turning around to look at Yuuri for the first time all day. “How many times must I tell you, over here, black is the color of— _What happened to your hair?”_                

                “Oh, this?” Yuuri looks sheepish, touching his candy-pink hair. “It’s just something I thought I’d try… One of my mom’s wash-on dyes, you know… Greta, didn’t you have something to show me?”

                He hurriedly changes the subject, leaving Wolfram flabbergasted, his mouth hanging open.

                “Conrad! What is the meaning of this?! How can you let him do that?! Gwendal will have a fit—”

                “Really? I think it’s Günter we should be more worried about, though…” Conrad’s expression is thoughtful. “And relax, it’s a very temporary dye. He was just hoping to spend Father’s Day with you two quietly, as just a father and not a king.”

                “…Is that so?” Dammit, when it comes to Yuuri, he really is getting too soft! It’s naïve for Yuuri to think he can ever stop being king while he’s in this country, and the Wolfram from a year ago would never even hesitate to burst his bubble. Now, though... Gah! Wolfram shakes his head to clear it, trying to find another line of reasoning. “It’s unlike him, though, to actually act upon his insecurities. I won’t call it selfish, but he should know he’ll get in trouble for that, and he’s always so hung-up about troubling others…”

                Wolfram’s eyes narrow as something occurs to him. “You wouldn’t have something to do with it, would you, Lord Weller?”

                Conrad’s smile is as radiant as always. “I may have mentioned something about the castle-wide celebration. Just in case he gets overwhelmed by the reception, you understand. Oh, and what I said about him wanting a quiet Father’s Day was purely my speculation, based on the minimal resistance he put up with Jennifer pulled him into the shower.”

                “……”

                “Wolf! Conrad!” Greta waves at them from the end of the corridor. “Come on!”

                “Coming!” Ah, he’ll just put it aside for now, for his adorable daughter’s sake. “Conrad, aren’t you coming with us?”

                “Oh, it’s fine.” Lord Weller’s smile reaches all the way to the corners of his eyes. “Yuuri already gave me a present this morning. Though where he got it is up for speculation, haha…”

                Wolfram just looks at him, and they stare at each other for one second, two… before Wolfram turns away, tosses something into the air, and mutters something like. “Because you’re my fiancé’s godfather.”

                And then he jogs away to join said fiancé and their daughter, leaving Conrad to stare in wonder at the clumsily-wrapped little packet in his hands.

 

“Where are we going, Yuuri?” Greta asks curiously, looking up at Yuuri, who’s holding her right hand.

                “Shh! It’s a surprise.” Yuuri is grinning, and Wolfram can’t help an exasperated huff at his child-like excitement.

                “Greta, do you still have that thing with you?”

                “Of course!” Greta looks to her left, where Wolfram is holding her other hand and obviously wondering how many hands she has left to carry that thing. She giggles. “It’s in my bag, silly!”

                “Don’t call your daddy that,” Yuuri scolds lightly, trying –and failing-- to hide his curiosity. Wolfram rolls his eyes at him, still slightly annoyed for reasons he can’t quite put his finger on, then getting even more annoyed with himself for being annoyed. And is it just him, or—

                “Here we are!” Yuuri points out their destination with just a bit too much enthusiasm.

                “...Grandma’s flower garden?”

                …No one had gotten used to Greta calling Lady Cheri Grandma yet, except the two girls themselves. Wolfram forcefully makes that muscle in his face stop twitching.

                “Y-yeah. Anyway, Lady Cheri told me a secret a few months ago…”

                Yuuri lets his voice trail away, trying to build suspense. When his audience of two looks decidedly unimpressed, he clears his throat and pulls apart the branches of the weeping swallow tree, to reveal a little corner of the garden no one ever paid attention to—

                “…On the first few nights of summer, these star asters glow in the dark!”

                “Whoa--!” Greta’s eyes seem to sparkle, reflecting that pale, baby blue light. “It’s so pretty!”

                Even Wolfram has to admit, it’s mesmerizing. The flowers have a light, almost indistinguishable fragrance, that, even in the night, brings to mind the sun and rain and summer and…

                His gaze travels, of its own accord, to Yuuri.

                Who—and he’s sure of it now—has been avoiding his eyes all day.

                “Why didn’t we notice this place before?” Greta is demanding.

                “Because asters are wildflowers.” Wolfram crouches down, careful not to trample on any of them.  “I suppose they don’t look so impressive in the day.”

                “Lady Cheri said she didn’t plant them, she just came here one night to—well, she just happened to stumble across them.” On a hot summer midnight rendezvous. Both Yuuri and Wolfram avert their faces from Greta in unison.

                “A-anyway.” Wolfram coughs when Greta tugs on his hand quizzically. “What we mean to say is, these flowers may look ordinary normally, they may be small and unassuming and get into places without you knowing, but when times get tough, they’re the ones that shine the brightest, or the warmest. In fact, they’re just like…”

                “Just like you, Greta.” Yuuri lifts Greta up and gives her a little spin. Now, when has he gotten that strong? Wolfram eyes his toned arms under his sleeves. “I’m proud to be your father, Greta.”

                “We both are.” Wolfram puts a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, noting the way it stiffens underneath his touch. “And if you don’t show Yuuri what you made now, Father’s Day will be over.”

                “A-ah!” Greta immediately breaks free of Yuuri’s grip, ignoring his hurt expression as she ransacks her bag. “Here it is!”

                “It’s a… ball? You made that?”

                “No! Anissina did, it’s the ‘Sphere of Eternal Edible Youth: the Cooler-Lunch Ball’!”

                “I gave her the idea.” Wolfram can’t quite keep the pride out of his voice. It’s a cross between the lunch boxes and cooler boxes he saw on one of his rare trips to Yuuri’s world, except everyone was a bit touchy about using boxes for the design. Understandably so.

                “I just started learning how to cook, and I made it this morning, so…” Greta seems to have gotten hit by a bout of last-second stage fright. “It was supposed to be brunch, but now it’s become supper… If Yuuri doesn’t want to eat so late, it’s okay not to…”

                On cue, her little tummy growls.

                Wolfram’s smile is fondly exasperated as he reaches over to pop open the ball, revealing three layers of neatly arranged bento. The top one has an adorably clumsy family portrait made out of golden omelet for Wolfram’s hair, seaweed for Yuuri’s and shredded carrot for Greta. Personally Wolfram wishes Greta had put more effort into her part of the picture, instead of obsessing over theirs.

                Slowly they disassemble the bento together. The second layer has slices of fruit cut into bunny ears and cat claws. Yuuri gives Wolfram a questioning glance before he can stop himself, and Wolfram shrugs the answer. Of course he helped cut these. As if he was letting his daughter around sharp knives.

                When she reveals the bottom layer, tightly packed with fluffy rice, the moisture in Yuuri’s eyes isn’t just the steam from the still-warm bento.

               

“Anissina’s made something amazing again,” Yuuri admits when Greta is fast asleep on his lap. “But Greta’s was even more amazing, hehe.”

                “That’s because you’re biased towards her.” Wolfram casually puts a flower into his hair. “And there’s no use trying to hide from the subject anymore. Why have you been avoiding my gaze?”

                “A-avoiding? I don’t know what you mean…”

                “Please look at me while we’re talking. Your Majesty.”

                “Urk…” Yuuri sighs, looking as though he wants to ruffle up his hair, but stops when he remembers the flower lost somewhere in there. “This is kind of embarrassing, but… gah…”

                One thing Wolfram gained after being engaged to Yuuri for so long, is a surprising amount of patience.

                “…argh, fine! Here.”

                For a moment Wolfram suspects that Yuuri’s going to toss him something just like he did Conrad, but Yuuri is still too nice for that. Instead, his king and companion sticks out his hand, head lowered, offering him the little package in his palm.

                “What for?” Wolfram is happy, of course, but he still has to ask.

                “Father’s Day, of course… D-Daddy.”

                A pause, and then both of them gag, trying their best to keep their beloved daughter’s hard work securely down their throats.

                “W-what didya call me that for!? Brr, all my hairs are standing on end…”

                “I-I didn’t want to, either! But that’s what my mom calls my dad sometimes… A-and, she gives him a Father’s Day present… Because he’s our father…

                “So… since you’ve been a great dad to Greta…”

                “Yuuri…” Wolfram can’t lie, he’s rather touched. “Thank you…”

                “Ehehe, it’s okay…”

                “I didn’t get you anything, though.”

                “I said it’s okay…”

                “I know. I’ll give you ‘me’.”

                “It’s—bwargh?!”

                “Hey, what’s with that reaction? Don’t you want ‘me’?”

                “N-no, wait, where did you learn that from!? Who!?”

                “…One of those romance novels, the ones that are so famous in town recently. The author had a book signing a few days ago, and I was bored, so…”

                “G-Günter…!”

 

*

The present Yuuri got from Earth turned out to be a sunflower fridge magnet. After Wolfram unwrapped it, the two of them just sat on the bed looking at it for a good minute or so before Yuuri suggested he put it on his sword. After which Wolfram had to resist the urge to throw it at him.

                “Wait, what does it say here?”

                “…No 1 Dad.”

                “Hmph, how cheesy.”

                --was what he said, but he sure looked happy.

                What Yuuri will never admit is that he didn’t get the present because of what it said on top, but because the bright yellow flower attracted his attention in the shop when he was looking for Conrad’s present, and he found himself looking for excuses to buy it for Wolfram.

                As expected, it fit him perfectly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

***

“…Why?”

                Murata Ken stares at the large mug of blue liquid in front of him, then at the cross-dressing bartender. A treat for the dads, Josak had said with a wink.

                “Father’s Day special, all dads get one on the house.” He deftly dries a delicate champagne glass, and tucks it away into the top shelf without having to try.

                “…I don’t have a kid.”

                “Who said? I think, Shin Makoku is Your Eminence’s baby.” Josak gives him a thumbs-up. “Then, and now.”

                Murata looks at the mug again, makes up his mind, and drains the whole thing in one gulp.

                It tastes bitter… but sweet.

**Author's Note:**

> How I got to asters:
> 
> Google 'Father's Day flowers' --> Found the pretty name that I read somewhere means 'stars' (so star aster is basically star star, I got lazy, shoot me... shooting asters? nah, sounds horrible) --> Blooms in summer, check --> Means love and patience, aww and check --> birthday flower for September, ignored //shot --> MAY BE A QUESTION OF FAITHFULNESS.
> 
> ...Cue, scene where Wolf gets suspicious and puts a flower in Yuuri's hair, without actually yelling in his face, 'ARE YOU CHEATING ON ME, WIMP?!'
> 
> PS. Then I got too hung up on flowers and couldn't get the sunflower-colored hair out of my head. Sunflowers also have a nice implication, but I won't bore you with it here :3 
> 
> PPS. I had to put Josak in there somewhere.
> 
> PPPS. Guess what Yuuri gave Conrad?
> 
> PPPPS. ...I don't know, either.
> 
> PPPPPS. Yuuri: "Why has Father's Day become some sort of summer Christmas!?"


End file.
